"I'll be back in a little while," Scott announced walking out into the kitchen only to discover Logan at the sink trying desperately to scrape out the contents of the casserole dish he'd charred earlier. Bringing his hands up over his head in a stretch, Scott couldn't help, but eye Logan with a newfound interest, "Do you honestly believe that's going to come out?"
"It was worth a shot," Logan gave the dish another look before opting to toss it in the trash with a shrug. "I'll buy you a new one. Consider it a wedding gift."
"Your generosity is overwhelming," Scott couldn't help, but roll his eyes before placing his glasses on his face and securing them.
"Where are you going?" Logan couldn't help, but question taking a step in closer to Scott.
"I need some air. I figured a run couldn't hurt," Scott motioned to the door just beyond where he stood. "I've been thinking about what you said about my being in control of my powers."
"You are in control Scott," Logan informed him once again.
"Not as much as I'd like to be," Scott divulged with a shake of his head, "I've been slacking lately and maybe what happened the other day is the direct result of a lack of discipline."
"I don't know if…" Logan opened his mouth to say something more.
"I've been lagging on my exercise. Just because I don't always have the constant force of my power dominating me any longer doesn't mean that I shouldn't be doing everything I can to work to keep it in check just like I've always done. I've gotten lazy over the last few weeks in some ways," Scott continued to explain to Logan, "and maybe I just need to get back into training mode. If I get beyond the slacking I've been doing…"
"You should be resting," Logan frowned giving Scott a long once over, "You were exhausted the last few days and…"
"If I have to sit in the house, trapped inside these walls with my thoughts about what I did I'm going to lose it Logan," Scott continued to stretch on the floor before him, "Plus as you can see I've already started healing. The physical signs of what happened are gone. They have been for a while. I feel rejuvenated and…"
Logan watched as Scott spun around, bending down to lean forward. The angle gave Logan a more direct view of Scott's limber frame, accentuating all the muscled contours that Logan had grown to appreciate in a more intimate fashion. Seeing Scott stretch with such fluidity and grace, Logan found himself distracted by his inner beast, by more primitive thoughts that had no place in their current conversation.
"Fine, I'll join you then," Logan wiped his hands on a towel before approaching Scott. "It's been a while since we were able to really engage in a little friendly competition with one another."
"It's just a jog Logan," Scott's mouth curved downward in the beginnings of a scowl, "I really don't need you to hold my hand for this."
"Maybe I want to," Logan raised a teasing brow before shifting gears on the conversation, "or maybe I just want to prove to you that I can still kick your ass on this one as well."
"Please old man," Scott couldn't help, but tease, "you know I could outrun you any day at any time or any place."
"Want to make a wager on that one?" Logan wiggled his brow suggestively, "Perhaps a winner takes all situation?"
"Considering that I already have pretty much everything I could've wanted out of you, I don't think that's really a provocative enough challenge," Scott couldn't help, but issue Logan a long once over in spite of himself.
As Logan stood before him in a pair of gray sweatpants, shirtless and barefoot before the kitchen sink, Scott couldn't help, but find himself realizing just how perfect Logan looked before him simply making himself at home in the kitchen. It was the first time in a very long time that Scott found himself thinking about what it meant to have Logan home with him. The house had been nice before, but it had been cold, empty before Logan's arrival much like Scott's life had been for so very long.
"Trust me I can think of a few things that we could throw on the table," Logan winked at him suggestively. "Besides I was kind of hoping we could get a sparring session in."
"Sparring," Scott perked up at the suggestion, "as in you and me perhaps in the boxing ring?"
"Yeah, you know you and me…together kind of like we were on our last trip out here," Logan wiggled his brow suggestively, his eyes widening with mischief.
"If we do that, we won't get anything else accomplished Logan," Scott tipped his head to the side and laughed. "We'd start off sparing and then end up, well, doing something that entails a complete lack of discipline."
"We could throw a little discipline into it if you're up for it," Logan twisted the towel between his fingers, eyes full of suggestion when Scott felt a blush carrying over his cheeks.
"I'll consider it," Scott stood up taller, puffing out his chest before looking to his watch, "after the run."
"Afraid we won't get anything else accomplished if we hit the gym first?" Logan couldn't help, but laugh releasing the towel and tossing it over by the sink in a quick throw.
"I know we won't get anything accomplished," Scott met Logan's eyes in a challenge, "You'll say the right thing or maybe the wrong thing, we'll tear each other apart and then it's bound to get intense, wildly inappropriate, passionate and I'll be too tired to start on anything else…"
"Yeah, I was thinking along those lines," Logan nodded with laughter, "but first since you're eager to get a jump start on the day we'll go for your run. After we can finish up in the ring. Maybe somewhere in between that we'll also run a few exercises like we would back at the school considering we both could use them to limber up."
"Sounds good," Scott nodded in agreement before rubbing his palms together excitedly, "go get dressed and we can get out of here. I'm hoping to get some good mileage in today."
"You're going to be eating my dust very soon," Logan promised with a laugh turning to change for their next challenge.
"Fat chance Logan," Scott called out to him knowing full well that they were about to be in for an interesting day with one another.
XXXXX
"Ready to give up?" Scott questioned running in place in the dirty parking lot near the pub he and Logan had jogged off towards with one another. Turning around Scott watched Logan come up from behind, slow and steady in the same stride he'd been keeping for the last few miles of their run. Now watching Logan approach with gritted teeth, pretending that he wasn't thoroughly bored with the run, Scott couldn't help, but laugh.
"What?" Logan replied rushing up to stand beside Scott. Offering up a casual shrug Logan waved his hand in the air, "Eight miles aren't a good enough start for you this morning?"
"We still have another eight back if I decide to take the same path," Scott nodded motioning to the direction that they'd started off in, "which means you're going to have to step up your game if you're even thinking about out running me."
"I was pacing myself," Logan explained motioning to the older building behind them, "and maybe you should think about doing the same. How about a drink?"
"A drink," Scott glanced over his shoulder at the pub, seeing the weathered sign before him. Turning to face Logan again, he couldn't help, but smile, "sure, why not? You could use a little refueling for what I have planned ahead for you. We did talk of a challenge after all."
"We never agreed upon the terms," Logan corrected following Scott to the doors of the pub, "so therefore…"
"I'm thinking perhaps you can get started on some housework when I win," Scott couldn't help, but tease reaching for the doors and opening them.
"When I win the only work I plan on doing is in the bedroom with you," Logan reached out to pull the door from Scott's arm and breeze past him, "and if you're nice, perhaps we'll relocate to the boxing ring again as well."
"You won't win," Scott declared puffing his chest out confidently. The two entered the darkened pub, feeling it's stark contrast from the warm, wonderful day outside. Taking in a breath, Scott reluctantly took off his glasses, carefully tucking them away in his pocket before motioning to a table across the pub, "How about over there?"
"Sounds good," Logan agreed as the two relocated to a quiet corner of the pub, preparing to immerse themselves in the environment. Once they were seated Logan glanced over at Scott again, "Ever been here before?"
"Once or twice," Scott nodded quietly, "the food leaves much to be desired, but there are a couple of things worth checking out."
"I can see one of them right now," Logan's face remained neutral when his foot suggestively brushed up against Scott's leg underneath the table, causing Scott's blue eye to widen with surprise.
"Logan," Scott chastised in a small whisper, "we are on break, but after we have a tough regiment of activities ahead of us."
"That's kind of what I was hoping for," Logan wiggled his brow daringly.
"It amazes me how much sex is always on the mind for you," Scott groaned outwardly, amusement carrying over his tone.
"Don't tell me it's not with you," Logan leaned in closer to him, his words challenging Scott in the moment, "because we both know you'd be lying if you said it wasn't."
"Right now I'm thinking about the kitchen that's going to need a good work over in the cleaning department," Scott teased bringing his foot up in a subtle brush against Logan's leg, knowing full well he was toying with him.
"Right," Logan grumbled doubtful when he dropped his hand down to collect Scott's ankle. He pulled it up underneath the table, sliding it between his legs in an involuntary press. Cocking his head to the side, Logan could see the beginnings of protest carrying over Scott's lips, but knowing the cheap, plastic, checkered table cloth shielded anything that was happening underneath the table, Logan decided to chance it.
"What can I get for you both?" a voice questioned as the waitress stood beside the booth, clearly oblivious to their conversation.
"I'd love a water," Scott greeted her politely, his blue eyes meeting hers in a pleasant exchange when Logan's thick fingers massaged Scott's ankle, working over the tight muscle of his calf in a soothing press, "and what are your specials today?"
The waitress ran through the specials detailing each and every one of them until Scott settled in on a vegetarian dish and Logan opted for a steak. Once the woman left the table, Logan issued Scott a scrutinizing once over.
"Rabbit food?" Logan questioned sliding his fingertips over the ties on Scott's running shoe. He started to tease the knot between his fingers, offering up a not so subtle hint of his intentions when Scott pulled back.
"I'm training," Scott shrugged his shoulders simply. Sitting up straighter Scott wiggled his foot out of Logan's lap and wrinkled his nose at him, "Protein comes later."
"Considering you haven't eaten much of anything over the last few days, I think you should've opted for something a bit bigger," Logan suggested when the waitress went in back to put in their orders.
"Given what I know about the food here, I think you're going to be the one regretting that decision with the steak," Scott warned after the waitress returned with their drinks. "Healing powers and all, you're still going to feel it for a while."
"I like to live life on the edge," Logan decided raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a full, hearty swig of it.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Scott leaned back in his seat preparing to say something more when the sound of new customers arriving captured his attention.
"So there we were standing outside of this big rig, watching all it's contents spill all over the road and this idiot decides to get in the way…" a voice boasted, starting to share outlandish contents of a tale to the new arrivals. Immediately upon hearing the sound of the voice, Scott sat up straighter in his side of the booth, craning his neck to take in the words. It wasn't so much that the words themselves were of interest to him, but there was something in the voice, in it's tone…
"So do you think that I'll be able to twist your arm into a little fun before we get back to business?" Logan's hand pressed in over Scott's in a flirty movement, geared at returning Scott to their earlier discussion, but as Scott listened to the sound of the dark haired man's voice across the pub, watching him make his way back to the bar with two of his buddies, Scott found himself overtaken with another thought about another time and place. Closing his eyes Scott took in his breath, trying to keep it under control when his thoughts got the best of him.
"He's a real pretty one, isn't he?" the same voice at the bar surrounded the darkness, causing Scott to shake beneath the shackles he was in. Even though he was strapped down in the chair, he couldn't help, but want to fight back, to regain control of his life. He was terrified, bleeding and beaten down after he'd been ripped away from school, unable to fight back. He was helpless, blindfolded, alone and surrounded by the darkness that had consumed his young life for so very long.
"This one doesn't look like a freak much, does he?" another voice questioned in a dark, sadistic tone. Scott felt the brush of fingers against the side of his face, took in the scent of the tobacco accompanying the cold, grimy finger tips upon him while another hand pinched at his arm causing him to wince in the back of his throat.
"The best of them never do," the initial voice explained, his words laced with a combination of distain and interest when Scott felt the slide of dirty fingers against his cheek, pushing into the hollow of his cheekbone in a commanding press, "Of course that's part of what makes it so easy to toy with them. For a while you can forget they're freaks especially when…"
"You mean," a third voice questioned causing Scott to stiffen with fear. Realizing that he was trapped, caged within the torture chair like an animal, Scott started to panic. He felt fingers slide into his hair, wrenching his restrained head back in a painful stretch.
"This one would be interesting," the voice taunted, hand pressing in over the front of Scott's chest in an unwelcome movement, "He'd put up one hell of a fight, but something tells me he'd be worth it."
"Scott," Logan's voice tore Scott from the darkness, away from the sounds that filled his subconscious. Now with his eyes opening, Scott focused on Logan, seeing the worried expression on Logan's face before him, "you alright?"
"Yeah," Scott nodded taking in a breath. It was a lie, given that Scott was anything, but fine in the moment. He tried to ignore the sound of the voice in the bar, to avoid looking over at the man whose face he hadn't seen before today. The memory was there, the terror of what had followed when Scott had feared for his safety. He'd tried to distance himself, to pull himself out of the moment in between the men taking turns punching him in the chest and abdomen, beating on him relentlessly, each time more angry and eager, their threats more menacing in an attempt to break him. He'd imagined his captors were going to find new ways to torture him, to abuse him in ways that he'd never recover from, that they would violate him in such a fashion that would leave him forever shamed. However, before they could act upon their lewd suggestions there had been another voice. Scott hadn't known it at the time, but now he recognized and identified it as Victor's.
"Get away from him," Victor had snarled when Scott had heard a loud banging sound. He was still blind to the world around him, terrified in his youth, a teenager with no sense of understanding, no comprehension of why the men wanted to hurt him. He strained against the restraints, hearing another shuffling sound. Bodies impacted with the walls, being tossed around much like Scott had been upon his arrival, but unlike before he wasn't the one groaning in protest and agony, "This one is mine."
"We weren't doing anything," one man explained with terror in his tone.
"We were just looking…" the second added quickly.
"We were keeping an eye on him like the boss requested," the man from the bar that Scott now recognized offered up, "Pretty little freak shouldn't be left all alone in here."
"He's not alone," Victor snarled bringing about another few sounds before the door creaked open. "He's with me. Now get out."
There were a few rushed apologies, a quick retreat before the door slammed closed again. Scott stiffened feeling his fears compounding in their absence. Yes, the men might've wanted to torture him, to do horrible, unspeakable acts, but without them in the room, he found no reprieve. Victor's torment had been unbearable before and he suspected it would be horrible again. The hits he'd taken by the men Victor had scooted out were nothing in comparison to Victor's madness. Scott could remember the pain, the blood, the sheer helplessness with the wounds over his body. He could still recall the agony associated with the slashes, the deep, penetrating ache in his chest with what he'd perceived to be knives at the time. Now alone with Victor, Scott was well aware of what would follow.
"You didn't think I was about to share my pretty little plaything, did you?" Victor's voice softened, feigning an air of adoration, but Scott knew better. Scott was well aware of the bloodlust that had ruled Victor, of the sheer and utter delight Victor had taken in Scott's torment. The tests had been horrible, awful in a great many ways, but Victor's sadistic rush of thrill in tearing into Scott's flesh left him helpless, terrified and wishing like hell that death would surround him sooner rather than later.
"Scott!" Logan snapped squeezing at Scott's wrist, jerking him out of the memory without warning. With the touch Scott flinched, pushing back into the seat he was in with panic. His blue eyes widened, nostrils flaring with a rush of fear when he pulled away from Logan.
"Don't…don't touch me," Scott warned sharply, his eyes adjusting to his surroundings, to the realization that he and Logan were at the pub with one another still immersed in their time away from reality. He tried to still his racing pulse, to banish the memory of the fears inside of him, but they were so strong. Their grip on him seemed to intensify when Scott heard the familiar sound of laughter across the bar.
"Scott," Logan's eyes shifted worriedly. He stretched his hand out preparing to reach for Scott's hand again, but held back remembering Scott's request moments earlier.
"I'm sorry Logan," Scott apologized fighting to regain control of his thoughts. His blue eyes shifted between Logan and the bar trying to hold it together before he pushed himself away from his seat, "I'll be right back."
"Scott," Logan called out after him, but Scott knew sticking around wasn't an option. He needed air, needed clarity and peace of mind before he could focus again.
Rushing into the bathroom at the back right of the pub, Scott walked over to the sink placing his hands down on top of the ceramic. He lowered his head, closing his eyes and taking in a breath, one followed by another. Keeping his eyes shut tightly, he fought to contain himself, to refuse his mind's attempts to take him to a place he'd banished for his own sanity. He'd sworn to Charles that he'd wanted to remember Logan-that he'd been angry at how that time had been stolen from him, but accompanying those memories now bursting from within were the dark moments he'd longed to forget.
"We're losing him," a voice carried over Scott's mind, buried from within the madness he'd been involuntarily surrounded by.
"Damn it they've gone too far this time," Stryker's voice sneered with anger, "First Victor and now this…"
"He's slipping away," the other voice explained as the world began to fade out around him.
"That's simply unacceptable. I'm not finished with this one yet," Stryker had commanded as Scott started to slip into a state of unconsciousness, "Get him ready for another injection."
"That could be dangerous," the first voice cautioned.
"It's our only option because right now I need him alive," Stryker ordered roughly, his words firm and commanding, "perhaps Weapon X will prove to be good for something after all when everything is said and done."
Now raising his head up, Scott fought for air. He tried to get oxygen into his lungs, but his body was protesting, refusing to escape the painful memories that had surrounded him. His tortured youth had been miserable, his time in captivity seemingly worse, but for years he'd held it together. He'd moved on with his life. He was no longer the terrified boy who hadn't understood the horrors of the world. He was a leader, someone who was supposed to change things, to turn their world around. He wasn't scrawny, weak little Scott Summers, who was afraid of himself and the world around him. He was Cyclops, a true member of the X-Men team, who never backed down when surrounded by fears. He was strong, no longer small and weak in the face of danger and threats. He faced them head on, never backing down when he was called upon. He wasn't a victim any longer until that moment when Jean tore his world upside down. After that he was…
"Fooling yourself again, are you?" a voice questioned as Scott raised his head up to see his reflection in the mirror. Although the color had drained from his face, his eyes had changed, darkening when laughter surrounded him. The blue he'd gotten accustomed to was replaced by blackness. It engulfed him, causing him to step back in fear when his reflection taunted him further.
"Scott, you and I both know there's only one way to be free," the voice shifted, transforming his reflection to Jean's before him. He bit down on his lower lip, shaking his head in disbelief.
"You aren't real. You aren't here," Scott held his hands up in the air, attempting to banish her from his mind. "I know that you can't be…"
"You're losing it Scott," Jean's laughter surrounded him, "even Logan's well aware of the weak grasp you have on your sanity. What do you think he's wondering right now? He knows you're unstable Scott and even if he tries to pretend it doesn't matter, we both know it does. After all how many ways can he get you into bed before he realizes how tarnished you truly are? That not even he can put up with the truth in what you are…"
"Stop it," Scott snapped back at Jean's taunting face in the mirror. He stood up taller, puffing his chest out and glaring at her defiantly.
"Do you really think he'll have anything, but pity for you if he knew what you were doing in here hiding from the past? If he understood what you let those monsters do to you do you think he'd believe you were anything, but pathetic?" she challenged with a scowl overtaking her crimson colored lips. "If he had any idea of just how weak you were…"
"Stop it," Scott brought his hands up over his head, "I won't let you destroy me Jean. I won't let you do this to me again."
"You're the one doing this to yourself," she argued, her features softening when she spoke to him in the mirror, "I can help you Scott. I can make all of this go away if you simply let me inside. Stop fighting me Scott and embrace the truth. Realize that we should be one-untied as it always should've been."
xxxxx
Logan sat at the table replaying Scott's abrupt departure from their lunch. For a few seconds Scott had seemed fine, the color had returned to his features and he was smiling. Their run had been a good start, surprising Logan with Scott's stamina, showing that clearly he had healed from the injuries he'd inflicted upon himself the other night. Yes, Logan had realized that the emotional scars and the accompanying guilt would take longer to heal, but time away would do them good. Logan was convinced of that, yet when Scott pulled away from Logan's touch, Logan couldn't help, but wonder what Scott was truly pulling away from. Had it been Jean? Had it been something else that was haunting him? Something was wrong and the longer Logan sat waiting for Scott to return, the more he realized that he couldn't let the issue go. Rising to his feet, he prepared to go after Scott and see what was happening when the waitress arrived at the table with their food.
"Leaving already?" she questioned with an uneasiness in her voice.
"No," Logan smiled at her politely, his eyes lingering to the bathroom door, "I was just going to walk to the restroom for a second."
"Sure you were," the woman huffed impatiently, "Look I know your type and just because we get this a lot around here, doesn't mean that you can keep doing it?"
"Doing what?" Logan focused on her fully.
"You're going to need to pay for your meals and get out of here," she snapped back at him, her eyes narrowing at him with anger. "Don't think you can just get a hand out when…"
"For the love of…" Logan reached into his pants pocket pulling out his wallet. He reached inside grabbing a few bills before handing it to her, "This should more than cover lunch. Just get a couple of carry out boxes for us and we'll leave."
"Oh…you mean…you really weren't…," she replied apologetically, "I'm sorry I just assumed…"
"You know what they say about assumptions," Logan snarled in response while his eyes surveyed the pub again. He took in a breath, his thoughts returning to Scott's abrupt departure once again, "maybe you should make less of them."
"I'm sorry. We just had a break in not so long ago and we've been dealing with these rough neck types," she continued with a wounded expression on her face. "There was a man in here the other day who was really sour and when I went to bring him his check, he threatened me. He had these nails and…"
"Nails," Logan repeated seeing something flash behind her eyes.
She nodded, motioning to the bandage on her arm, "He got really angry, attacked me even. He grabbed me and cut me with those fingers of his, but then when the bartender pulled a gun on him, he raced out of here. I don't think he was scared or anything because of the way he was laughing when he left, but since then I haven't been the same. I've been scared out of my mind and seeing you and your friend before with the expression on his face when he rushed out of here, well you both seemed to have that look about you. When I thought that you were leaving without paying or preparing for worse…"
"That's not what we were doing," Logan assured her with a smooth breath despite the surprising news she'd delivered him about her attacker, "With the man that was here, did anyone see what direction he went off in? Did anyone follow him?"
"Would you have?" the waitress asked with a tiny shiver, "I took fifteen stitches to the arm and in this business that doesn't help anything. At this point if I never saw his face again, it would be too soon."
"Was he alone?" Logan couldn't help, but ask. "You said he came in here and had a meal, but was there anything that stood out about his time in here aside from his not paying and attacking you?"
"I didn't like him from the start," she divulged with a tiny shudder, her brown eyes full of uneasiness. "He came in here like he owned the place, ordered a beer and a steak-raw… I just got the vibe that something was off with him."
"When was that?" Logan questioned seeing the frown that carried over her lips, "When he was here, what night was it?"
"Two nights ago I think," she shrugged in contemplation, "maybe three. It was near closing time and there was a game on television, so we were open a little bit longer. The place had mostly cleared out though when he arrived and it was clear from the start he wasn't interested in the game. He seemed distracted."
"Did anyone join him?" Logan prompted once again, hoping to get a clearer picture of what had happened.
"Maybe," she bit back on her words, "I mean there might've been someone here with him. He seemed to be waiting for something, but at the same time I certainly wasn't going to question it. I just did my job in giving him his meal and tending to the other customers. It wasn't until everyone else cleared out that he decided to attack me. It was like he was waiting, stalking me like I was his prey. He kept staring at me. He was huge and he had those nails and these teeth. They were sharp, pointy, animalistic like a wolf or a dog…"
"If you saw his face again, would you recognize him?" he inquired knowing without a doubt that it couldn't be anyone, but Victor. Looking around the pub, he found himself surrounded by even more questions. "Where was he seated when you waited on him?"
"Near the back," she motioned to a section of the pub that was closed off. "He did a bit of damage to the booth he was in before he raced out of here. I swore that I thought he was going to kill us all before he left. He had wild eyes. They were crazy, but not like the typical crazy we get around here. Sure, he had a beer, but there was more than alcohol fueling his madness."
"Can I take a look at the booth?" Logan questioned taking in a whiff of the air that surrounded him. While he hadn't noticed it before, he could now feel it distinguishable above the other scents in the room. There on the woman before him was traces of Victor, remains of his attack upon her. He could feel his pulse quickening, his heart racing with the thought that two days ago, Victor had been seated in the pub, waiting, plotting and calculating his next move towards revealing himself.
"I guess. The police said they were done doing whatever it is they do around here this morning," the waitress nodded to the tray of food she'd been carrying earlier. "You still want boxes for these?"
"Sure," Logan nodded barely listening to her when he turned to the sectioned off area, pushing aside the rope that had tied off the back of the bar from the other patrons.
"Ok, but do you want some sauce for your…?" she questioned, her voice calling out to Logan when he slipped into the darkened area of the pub.
It took a moment for Logan's eyed to adjust to his surroundings, but it was his other senses that were suddenly on overload. He could see a blood covered pool table set up near the back of the sectioned off area, could see overturned chairs and splintered remains of tables that were used to host more private parties within the pub. Taking a step forward he heard the crunching of glass beneath his feet. While it was clear that the pub's owner had wanted to keep the disaster from the other patrons, it was also evident that the police had done their usual, reckless search causing more damage than results when they visited the pub earlier.
Taking in the scent of printing powder and various other tools for inspection the authorities had used to track the untraceable killer, Logan knew it was a lost cause. Their search for Victor would end up empty, much like everyone else who sought out to take Victor down. Victor was too smart to get caught by a local sheriff and his inept team, too sharp in his senses to leave anything for a normal person to find him. Of course, Logan realized in his search that he wasn't a typical human. He had a strong sense of Victor, a greater affinity towards tracking something and someone of interest when properly motivated. Looking to the yellow crime tape closing off the booth Victor had been seated in, Logan felt his body tighten, sensation prickling over his skin when Victor's scent surrounded him, hitting him as if Victor was there in the room with him in that very moment. Granted Logan knew that was an impossibility as instincts told him Victor was long gone.
"What are you planning?" Logan mouthed to himself, reaching out to the overturned table. He sat it upright, grudgingly bringing his fingers over the carvings in the wood before him. There was a smiling face, jagged and out of place in the otherwise smooth surface, a certain sense of menace behind something that anyone else would've perceived as innocent. Victor was on the hunt again. The smiling face was a sign of that. It's symbolism ran deeper than Logan could remember, yet his instincts told him that Victor was preparing for his next attack. The waiting period was going to soon be over.
"Where are you?" Logan questioned looking at the torn booth beside him, seeing it's foam insides scattered around the darkened back room of the pub.
On the floor beneath Logan was a cue stick ripped in two with blood on one of the splintered edges indicating the violence Victor had entered into. Bending over Logan reached for it wondering if anyone else had been a victim of Victor's impulsive attack. Logan knew it hadn't been the waitress or the bartender, yet if Victor had been meeting someone, if that person had encountered Victor in a fit of rage, then… Taking in the scent of the blood, Logan froze recognizing it almost immediately.
"Bert," he mouthed to himself realizing that the man he and Scott had been tracking had somehow been in the pub. It was his blood that stained the cue stick, that was spilled out across the floor in scattered droplets, leading over to the pool table where the green felt top was torn to shreds. Logan moved forward wondering if Bert had given Victor what he'd sought out-if somehow Victor had gotten his hands on what he longed for. The blood indicated Victor was angry, undoubtedly upset with Bert, but given the waitress hadn't mentioned a body, Logan had wondered if Bert had gotten away. Knowing someone like Bert could never outrun Victor, Logan felt another concern building.
"If Victor has what he wanted…" Logan mouthed to himself knowing that if Victor had made a stop to meet with Bert in this place, then the results would be disastrous regardless of the outcome. If Bert had provided Victor what he'd wanted with the adamantium, then Bert would have served his purpose and Victor would be done with him. However, if Bert hadn't given in to what Victor sought out, he could be spared for a while longer, could be given reprieve long enough to obtain what Victor craved the most. Judging by the lack of carnage in discovering a body, Logan felt a momentarily relief in the thought that there was still a chance Victor hadn't gotten his way. If Bert hadn't provided him with the adamantium, then there was still time. There was still a way to stop him before…
Logan's thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt when he noticed a dartboard on the wall before him. Although the darts had been scattered on the floor, there were another set of scratches etched into the center of it near the bull's-eye. Looking through the shadows, Logan realized there was a word scratched into the board before him. It was sloppy and done in haste, but the bold, jagged edges of the word were on full display for Logan. There was an exclamation point at the end of the word, highlighting it's importance when it dawned in on Logan that Charles had been wrong. Victor was no longer in Canada. Clearly he'd been in Ohio, waiting and regrouping, preparing to make his next move onto…
"Scott," Logan mouthed remembering his lover still inside of the pub's bathroom area. It had slipped his mind momentarily, but now as Logan spun around turning his attention to the bathroom door he found himself overtaken with a whole new set of concerns. He weaved out of the sectioned off area only to have the waitress block him from returning to Scott.
"I wasn't sure if you wanted plastic wear for this as well as a bag, so I thought I'd see if there was anything else I could get for you," she greeted him with a much warmer expression, then she'd given him earlier.
"Sure, whatever," he muttered under his breath only to feel her step in front of him again.
"Look I know we got off on the wrong foot sugar, but I was thinking maybe I'd throw in a piece of apple pie for you for good measure. Kind of my way of apologizing for the way I talked to you before," she tossed her curly, dark hair over her shoulder and issued him a flirty smile.
"Just the boxes are fine," Logan replied dismissively, stepping aside and nudging the waitress out of his way.
"Are you sure that…?" she questioned again with a curl of her lip.
"Positive," Logan mouthed pushing open the door to the men's room in the hopes of seeking out Scott to share with him his new discovery. Suddenly Scott's strange behavior made sense. If Scott had somehow sensed that Victor was there before Logan had, then it would explain Scott's abrupt departure, the worry that carried over him when Logan had reached out to him. Scott knew something was wrong, yet Logan hadn't picked up on it. His senses had been dulled by his flirting with Scott, yet…
"Scott," Logan called out to his lover, preparing to tell him what he'd learned when Logan realized Scott was nowhere in sight. A moment of concern carried over Logan when he realized that Scott's scent had faded from the bathroom indicating that he hadn't been in there in quite some time. Knowing that couldn't be possible, Logan continued to search the men's room. He looked to a door before him, drawing in a breath before pushing it open to reveal the empty stall before him. Looking around the remaining two stalls, Logan discovered them empty as well when worry swept in upon him. Victor's carving was etched in his mind, the message SOON still burning Logan to the core when his fears mounted, "Scott!"
Turning his attention to the sounds of the running sink, he could see blood on the corner of the porcelain base. He noticed a bloody handprint on the far wall, but what captured his attention was the knocking window that was cracked and forced open with the same bloodied hand. Immediately Logan's thoughts turned to Scott, remembering the horror of Victor's lingering presence in their lives. Suddenly fearing the worst Logan found himself wondering how he'd been so out of touch with sensing Victor. He should've felt it, should've sensed something, but there wasn't anything in the air surrounding him. Just the fading remains of Scott. Feeling goose bumps forming over his flesh again, Logan turned his attention to the window knowing that wherever Scott had drifted off to, the window was the key. Rushing over to it Logan looked out to the area behind the pub, noticing an abandoned barn in the distance. He stood up taller, surrounded by Scott's scent, taking in a breath in feeling that was the direction Scott had gone off in.
"Please don't let me be too late," Logan mouthed attempting to push his way through the opening in the window in the hopes that whatever was happening wouldn't result in disaster beyond repair. If Victor was there, then Logan there would be an inevitable fight, but if this was the ghost of Jean haunting Scott all over again, Logan feared that it may be one battle he wouldn't be able to win.
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